


Backwards

by hena134



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:48:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24039148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hena134/pseuds/hena134
Summary: ***The Hound x reader (lonely traveler, ex-Red Keep kitchen girl with a fetish for big scary men, fiesty)NSFW GIFs, a little rough***
Relationships: Sandor Clegane/Reader, Sandor Clegane/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 105





	Backwards

You sat at small table in the corner, your caped shoulders pressed against the cold bricks. The musky smell of burning wood swooned through the room as you sipped on the warm mead in your pitcher, just watching the fire-lit lodge. You were on your way down north, and you’ve come a damn long way. Your journey was closing to an end, and you took a refuge at an inn. A few more days and you’d feel cold air and see snowy peaks.

You watched some girls swing their hips around the room, arms around men they’ve just met. Couldn’t blame them, nor the men though; when one’s feeling lonely and cold, good company is always welcomed. You found yourself trailing memories…

It wasn’t so much of a complicated matter of how you’ve found yourself on this long journey. You came from humble beginnings, and got lucky enough to become a kitchen helper in the Red Keep. Hard work indeed, but better than anything that the streets you’d otherwise land on would ever give you. And so you cut vegetables and scrubbed pots… but the overwatching ladies were glad for their girls, and so when the job was done they’d let you and the other maidens sneek around on the corners, in the darkness of back corridors and storages to watch the balls and grand dinners. You all looked on in awe at the lords and their beautiful wives, clad in dresses, with every hair laid out by measurement, the jewels on their necks glimmering in the fabulous lights of the golden room, each brighter than the previous. But as the girls squeeled all over lady Sansa’s new dress (or bruise), and fawned over the likes of Sir Lancel or some other baby-skinned lad, you had a little more refined taste… Fancy dresses and shiny toys hadn’t your interest, for we’d all get ugly and dry without them. And so you lusted after boldly-built guards and their huge backs, rough hands and big, heavy swords. Flowers and kisses? You’d rather have rage and a good pull on the hair… And that was the girls’ best past time; brooding over princes and knights none of you would ever have, for you were plain serving girls, all finding a new target of adoration every so often.

You had several objects of lusting, eventually shifting to the Mountain the first time you saw him, but your interest in him quickly deflated once you realized that his murderous nature might be just a little over the top even for your taste. But it didn’t take long until you set your gaze upon the one they called the Hound…and so watching him and thinking of him became your main evening entertainment. His scars were nothing to you; you had plenty of your own from a splash of hot oil here and there, a mishandled knife, an angry chef, and grew up where even worse deformations were a daily matter, and thus you saw way more of him than just the destruction. You were looking at the massive posture, tall and unbreakable, hands probably twice if not triple size of your own. You found yourself biting your lips and digging fingernails into your thighs at thoughts of just how hard he could fuck you, how much hair he’d pull out, and how many bruises you’d be able to count. But as time passed and your lust hasn’t, you began to watch not only the man, but the Hound himself. You quickly realized that Sandor Clegane was far from what you’d judge. He was a silent man with little purpouse, and even if they said he apparently enjoyed bloodshed, you had a hard time believing that. Something was way off about him, but you’d never exchange words with him. You weren’t even sure if he ever saw you, but what did it matter. 

Soon though the capital started to become chaotic, and even if just a kitchen girl, you had a brain plenty more than enough to know it might be time to get out. You watched one maniac after another sit on the damned iron chair, and sure as hell you wouldn’t want to be the next one summoned to be Joffreey’s entertainment for the night… and so the moment Stannis’ ships went down in green flames, in the dark of the night you escaped. With a loaf of bread and a sack of whatever coin you managed to make, you ran, and ran, and ran… and ran and ran and ran until you realized nobody gives a fuck and isn’t chasing you. It was by luck and a little caution that you avoided trouble on the roads. You stayed here and there, grabbing a little innkeeping job wherever you wandered to in exchange for a meal and a bed. And you have finally made it so far, safe… but only so far.

You heard the door open and heavy footsteps cutting through them. Curiously, but cautiously as you didn’t want to bring too much attention to yourself, you looked in the direction from the corner of your eye. You thought for a moment it was the mead messing with your vision, but when you took a braver peek you quickly recognized the Hound. You looked away hastily when he was about to turn in your direction. The tall man obviously had a rough time recently, as he looked much withered and weaker than you remembered, several wounds on him that couldn’t be more than a few weeks old. He seemed to have been traveling alone. You observed discretely from your dark corner as he heavily sank into the stool at the bar and downed pitcher after another. You knew from before he never had it easy, but it seems like he was in pieces and even those were breaking into dust. Something must have happened… You heard rumours of the Hound escaping the Lannisters and roaming, but he was the last person you expected to bump into, especially when closing down to the northern borders of Riverlands… Then again, you doubted the Hound would remember you, or if he even noticed you back in the days. You pulled the hood of your cape a little more down and continued nibbling on the seeds and sipping the warm liquid. After a while more he disappeared off to the upstairs where the chambers were, and with little time, once deemed safe, you have followed. You tried your best to sleep, but you always had issues, as a lone traveling woman you had to be very cautious. But it wasn’t only the anxiety keeping you drifting in and out of sleep… the familiar warm feeling in your abdomen has returned. You couldn’t help it but to subconciously think of Sandor laying in bed somewhere within these walls, closer than he has ever been, his bare chest and crushing arms… No, you needed to snap out of it. Hell knew why he was here, and if he wouldn’t drag you kicking and screaming back to King’s Landing with traitory on your head… after all, it was the royal service, and you didn’t know if they hadn’t sorted you as a deserter. You needed to lay low… Hadn’t it been a lone area with only forests nearby, you’d leave. But you needed to rest, and there wasn’t a better way to knock oneself out than a good shot of pure spirit. You stalked your way out of the chamber; the corridor was extremely dark, but surely empty. You could see the reflections of the fire lingering at the bottom of the stairs, and made your way down, carefully placing each step as to not awaken anybody… especially a sleeping Hound. The stairs were a tricky part, but it was not the first time you have snuck around a ‘guarded’ place… Back in the palace, you’d often sneak into the kitchen late at night to take but a bite of roast, a lick of cinnamon, a little sweetroll, a sip of fine wine… and knew well that it’s best to make it down squeaky stairs backwards. It didn’t take you all that long and you were safely down, hunching a little and tiptoeing right next to the wall, setting your sights on the barrel across the room… where there were barrels and mugs, there must be also spirit… You took a few steps forward-

“You wouldn’t make a good thief…” a sudden but silent growl made you freeze in place. You slowly gazed towards the source of the comment, but didn’t have to look, and daren’t, to know Sandor was sitting in the chair right beside the firepit… Of course you haven’t noticed him, you made your way down the stairs backwards, silly girl… but then you haven’t heard anyone going down the stairs for hours and didn’t think there was anyone down. You knew there is no point in running or trying to explain yourself. Whatever way, you’d get into trouble for sure now… spirit is still a great idea at this point, even better. You sighted with defeat and dragged your way across the room to the hidden bottles, feeling his eyes on you. You found the savoury treat, filled a cup, and sat in the chair opposite of him… if you were in luck, afterall, maybe he hadn’t recognized you. You avoided his gaze and glued yours to the fire. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked bluntly.

“Aye… the wind outside is bothering me.” you answered calmly, trying not to raise any suspicion. “What about you, why are you down here… and with that?” trying to sense what his approach was you attempted to keep the conversation going, and pointed to a half-empty bottle he was cradling in his palms.

“Bored. Can’t sleep, but this shit is really weak and won’t even get me dizzy. I’m as sober as a goddamned virgin, and I had 3 bottles of this dogpiss.” he murmured out, clearly disappointed. You weren’t sure how to respond, and didn’t want him to become drunken… men were unpredictable when drunk, and you’ve seen plenty of what this one could do. While you enjoyed watching it, you’d rather just and only watch. 

After a small silence he spoke up again. “You thought I didn’t recognize you?”

Your eyes widened a little bit. Shit. Fuck. God damn. 

“Don’t worry…” he continued, “I couldn’t give a fuck less. I’m not going to King’s Landing and have nothing with them, so it doesn’t matter. You were one of the kitchen girls, I remember you all too well. (Y/N), I think…”

You were relieved, but at the same time the fact he recognized you shook you a little. You never exchanged glances, you never saw him take notice of you, and he had never spoken with you… so how did he ever…?

“How do you know my name?” you asked, finally getting the courage to look at him. 

“Men speak a lot, I knew all of you’s names. I’ve heard all about who wanted their cock in whose mouth and what-not.”

“Charming…” you chuckled. Crudeness never really bothered you, although not that you contributed. Sure, you also had your fun here and there, but didn’t know it was such a big deal betweem them… What was to care for it now though, it was years ago and had no significance no more.

“Is it true you told Joffreey to go and fuck himself?” you eventually asked between the laughs you two have been having for quite some time now. The night hasn’t seemed to be moving very fast, but the company was surprisingly good.

“Something along the lines. Whatever I said, they will have my head for it.” 

“…how did you end up here though?” you started to get more curious. So far your talks have only been dirty jokes and taking a piss out of the pompous court back at King’s Landing, but your flame for the man wasn’t getting settled, and was in fact getting fused from the diluted spirit which caught your head ever so slightly. 

“You’re starting to dig in the wrong direction now…” he sank into his chair more. 

“Well, you look really roughed up, you’re all alone, and this place is set on a road… you’re obviously off to somewhere.”

“None of your damned business…” he became more serious. 

“Fine, sorry… Although I don’t know what I could do with this so-precious information. I was just curious, I don’t care.” you growled, curling your knees under your chin. You turned your gaze away from him and onto the fire, which was slowly dying out… and then you felt free. You weren’t sure if it was speaking with Sandor as if he were an old friend, where as normally you’d have to sneak around the corners to avoid him, or the alcohol tingling your throat, but it suddenly hit you that nothing is stopping you. You could do as you wished. You could eat, drink, dance, fuck, laugh, say whatever and however much you wanted, and nothing but death could stop you really. Maybe it was a humble and dangerous life, but a good and worth one. As you turned back to Sandor you realized that his stare was glued on you the entire time. 

To hell with it all. If you can have it, you will.

You put your cup down, lifted yourself, walked right up to him and sat on top of his laps, your hips on his, your feet on his knees, and pressed your lips on his, one hand on his scarred face, other digging into his chest. It all lasted but seconds, yet you felt no resistance from him. He wasn’t too responsive either, so you took full advantage of the surprise and took a long, deep kiss from the Hound’s ale-soaked mouth. You pulled away, now both your hands on his chest, and looked at him hazily, curious about his response…

“Are you fucking insane…?” he whispered, smiling slightly. You weren’t sure if it were in mocking or in amusement. Either way, he seemed to be fine with it. You went ahead an leaned onto him again, this time feeling the large palms creeping up your waist carefully as you started to feel him brush his lips against yours a little more bravely each time. You began to feel hot, the old familiar tingling in your hips began to be almost uncomfortable. The room became dimmed and chilly as the last of sparks in the fire began dying…

“Let’s take it upstairs…” you whispered in Sandor’s ear, hearing a heavy sigh. He followed you back to your room, where luckily the small fire still held out the cold of the night. As soon as the door closed you pressed yourself on the man, having to make a bit of an effort to reach him. He returned a few kisses before gently pushing you into the floor by your shoulders.

“Are you really fine with this? Don’t lower yourself…” he said sturdily, looking you right in the eyes.

“What do you mean, I can do whatever I like. I am nor married, nor a whore, what is it if I want to spend a night-”

“That’s not what I meant. But you could be off with someone of a bit better posture. I know the drink got to your head, but I’d rather not have you wake up screaming tomorrow and get strang up by the balls for apparently forcing myself on you.” 

You took a step back. Clearly he wasn’t getting it, and you had to put it into his damned head, which was probably more drunken than yours.

“You never noticed the way I was looking at you? I couldn’t care less for your scars, it’s other things I am after. And I won’t be here for the morning, since you won’t tell me where you’re headed. We will fuck and make our ways, take yours to hell for all I care. But don’t deny me this, especially since you didn’t exactly seem to resist me either. I ain’t no queen, no expensive whore, no beautiful redhaired maiden, but I see a man I like and maybe you could accept-”

“Please don’t give me some bullshit about accepting myself-” he tried to cut you off, but you had one hell of a temper.

“Fuck accepting yourself, I’m not gonna do that for you. But do learn to accept that someone else can.” you whispered sharply, trying to keep your voice down not only for the sake of other lodgers, but mainly because you didn’t want to scare him. While you had no issues with his appearance, you knew well there were stories to it. Whores refusing his payments, women not even looking at him while speaking, and loves disappointing him. And while he could swing his sword and growl all he wanted, all people had fears and insecurities. Sandor wore his on his skin.

He lowered his sight, which you didn’t expect. But you waited for his next move, and weren’t disappointed when he came closer to you and pulled you to his chest by the waist. You smiled gently as your arms wrapped around the strong neck, careful not to graze the wound nearby his ear… looked a little fresh. After a few more soft kisses you were pressed into the bed by his weight. All that roughness you were after was nowhere to be felt, but you loved what he was doing to you… Sandor’s hand was taking a good care of the skin on your leg as it pressed against his side, the fabric of your underdress slid to your hips, your hands on his board shoulders… His lips trailed skims on your neck and you didn’t expect his scars to feel pleasant as they kissed your skin occasionally. As he felt your breathing become deeper, the kisses became braver and your hands travelled past the fabric and onto his bare back… you felt roughness here and there, but on top of soft, hot skin. Mmm… but it was all too shy and too slow for you. Sandor obviously hasn’t fully trusted your lustful intentions yet…

You caught him by surprise when you wrapped your leg around his back and tackled him around, straddling him. He looked a little worried, but tried to hide it well by laying his hands on your hips. You gave no damns as you clearly made it known the shirt is to be gone. You pulled it right off his bold body, and he complied… pushing him back onto the pillows, it was your turn to show him some appreciation. Ever so slowly you took delicate nibs on the spot between his ear and jaw, then began travelling your tongue down, giving kisses and sucks inbetween. You haven’t forgotten the other side of his face, giving it gentle strokes and presses with your other hand. When you felt his hand make its way to your lower back you knew it’s time to get braver. You stroked the sides of his ribs and began shifting your body lower down his, until your hands were on the inner side of his knees. You looked right at him as you began steadily moving them up… he was getting hard, but either was very good at controlling himself, or this wasn’t enough to break him. Your hands back on his hips, you gave him a fast kiss on the lips while his lower garments became undone. A few more kissed on his baring hips, a hard grasp on the inbetween of his legs and you felt a forcefull push against your palm… You looked up to see him gazing at you with a lust you have never thought he was capable of. It motivated you to the stars and back… He didn’t even realize when you got your mouth around his cock, paying every move slow and dedicated attention… You wanted to tease him, drive him to the edge in hoping of awakening that rough, arm-grabbing, bruise-causing fantasy of yours… it was lurking in there somewhere for sure. You were going deep and dormant, making sure he feels every throb and breath you took. He couldn’t resist it for long, and it wasn’t enough.

Sandor quickly had you back where you two started, but you lost your own garments on the way. You lay completely bare as his hand didn’t hesitate to take revenge. You felt a sharp force between your legs, but it disappeared almost immediately between the pleasure of his large fingers going in and out of you. You arched into his chest and completely forgot yourself, digging your fingers into his arm and shoulder. He watched with mild satisfaction as you danced under him, but couldn’t let you get too far. Your were closing up around him too tightly, and he knew all too well if he continued you’d explode. Pulling out of you, Sandor lay his hand on your inner thigh, giving it a delicate stroke as you came back to reality… It was really happening… and you couldn’t think of anything that you have ever wanted more in those terms. You looked at him, but it wasn’t a crazy, flushed, hot stare anymore. It was something more of a human who found a soulmate. You didn’t know what or why, but there was something about him. Something about the Hound that made you want to take over the world for him. Your gaze was soft, innocent even somehow, and it pierced right into his soul. He found his own heart throbbing a little. Perhaps it was just lust, but it was a good start… maybe something could come of this… 

Sandor looked at you and kissed you as he drowned himself inside your warmth. You gasped on his lips and tightened your grab on his skin as you felt his massive length move deep into you. It drove him crazy, but he knew he had to watch his strength… he could hurt you quite badly if he let himself go. You weren’t all that fragile, but he didn’t have the average strength either. Yet all that caution was quickly dismissed, as you began forcing yourself against his rhythm, which caused the Hound to lose it. The violent thrusts you gave him all while pressed by his weight were unbelievably sensitive on him… it got him where you wanted him. With one swift move you were chest-against-sheets, your behind brushing on his raging cock. He pushed into you as quickly as he previously left, but as he realized that the hands on your hips weren’t enough to keep you from slamming yourself against him no matter how much he dug into them with even fingernails, he restrained you quickly. Not that he didn’t enjoy it, but he wanted to have you under him… if you were giving yourself up, he might have as well shown you a little of his nature. He took a good grab of your nape, the other palm solidly wrapped around your arm. The forming bruises on your hips already had you going places, but now you could come just from the way he had you at his mercy. But he wasn’t going to go easy on you at all…

The different angle he hit you inside with strong and blunt was the end of it. After a dozen or so thrusts, which got faster and harder each second, you were closing around his massive cock, juices running down your parts and legs. He felt well your throbbing around him, but he wasn’t quite done… You lost all strength as he continued to fuck you for a while longer, but you enjoyed every single slam, as it somehow managed to keep your own wits going. Suddenly you began to feel the grasp around your nape get harder, the strength on your arm definitely out of Sandor’s own control. You though he couldn’t have fucked you harder than he did when he made you come, but he managed, driven by the crazy hunger… You felt his whole arm come around your neck and his lips on your cheek as he crushed into you a few final times. It took him damned effort not to collapse on top of you, as you’d probably suffocate under his weight… You lay motionless, trying to catch your breath…by the time you did, Sandor has already drifted off to sleep. How rare… You took care to cover him with a quilt or two, and wrapped yourself up on the other end of the bed. You woke up to him watching you curiously. You smiled through your sleepiness, at which he seemed to be even more taken aback. He wanted to be pretty direct…

“I honest thought you’d be gone by now.”

“No… I’m feeling pretty good here with you.” you answered quietly.

“So you weren’t just crazy drunk-talkin’ last night… you’re fucking insane after all…” he smirked with disbelief.

“I wasn’t that drunk… and if this is where insanity gets me, that’s fine.”

You lay in bed a little longer, and somewhere inbetween he ended up cautiously wrapping his arms around you with his chest against your back, still a little dazed, but was quickly reassured by your palms tangling with his.

When you opened the curtains of the chamber plenty of clouds have rolled in… the weather looked bad. You made your way down for some supper.

“You might have to stay a few more nights, my lady”, the inkeeper chipped at you. You looked at him puzzled. “A few men just rode down from northbound, saying they hardly escaped a storm. It’s a big one, so I’d keep low.”

You exchanged glances with the Hound. What an interesting few days it would be… and who knew what would come of them.


End file.
